Bound in Black (3 page)

I straightened the belt holding my katana and shook my head. “Not yet. I need to see a few people before we go.”

“Oh. I thought you were anxious to get there…to find your man and all that.” Sardonic Dommiel resurfaced.

“I’m more anxious than you know, but I’m not going in blind either. I need to speak with someone.”

“Ahhh. You have a few tricks up those leather sleeves?”

“I do, as a matter of fact.”

“Care to share?”

“Hell, no.”

“Then I’ll escort you to the door.”

“No need. I’ll leave from here, if you don’t mind. Your wards are weak, Dommiel. You should amplify them if you don’t want the unwanted sifting in and out.”

He arched the brow pierced with two studs and three gold hoops. “You can sift?”

I saw no need to keep the truth from him. Word would get around if it already hadn’t. Apparently, demons were just as bad gossipmongers as humans. “Yeah. I can sift.”

“Well, well, well.” He leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms, his silver hook jutting out on one side. “Getting friendly with an angel, are you?”

“Not so friendly anymore.” I planned to kill him as soon as I found him.

Dommiel chuckled. “Do tell.”

“Not on your fucking life.”

His grin softened to an expression of pity, as if that brief bit of conversation explained everything. Thomas. The green-eyed angel who’d professed to be my guardian and who’d betrayed me worst of all by setting Jude up to take my fall—he was the cause of all this. And while he’d been in hiding ever since that day, sooner or later I’d find him. Our meeting wouldn’t be pretty. I’d trusted him. He’d given me the power to sift, a vital ability allowing me to move between time and space. He’d claimed to love me. Was it my rejection of him that made him betray me and take away the one I loved most in the world?

Of course, Dommiel couldn’t know all those things, but he was much more intelligent and perceptive than others believed him to be. This was why I knew he’d accept the blood vow, why he’d agree to take me into the deepest realm of hell even though it could cost him his life. He was smart, and he was a risk-taker. He’d be a valuable asset on my side.

Dommiel crossed one foot over the other at the ankle, shaking his head. “You know, the more you learn about our world, Genevieve, the more you’ll come to understand that everyone—Light or Dark—has their own agenda foremost in mind.”

He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. But his words made me smile.

“Does something amuse you?”

“You used my name.”

“I did?” He frowned in surprise. “I did.”

“I’ll be in touch…friend,” I teased.

“Now, let’s not go crazy, woman.”

I winked before sifting away into the Void. The black abyss pulled me through nothingness, gray blurs whirring by me as I passed Flamma sifting to their destinations. I pinpointed mine, zapping onto solid ground in Jude’s courtyard, where two gas lanterns still burned bright from when I’d lit them earlier.

The sounds of the French Quarter at night wrapped around me, even in this enclosure—a squeal of laughter, the upbeat rhythm of trumpets and piano from the jazz band at the outdoor café one street over, the honking of horns along Decatur. Here, the world was right—bustling along at an exhilarating pace. In my heart, the world had stopped the moment Jude was taken by Lethe.

I walked to the pile of stone rubble against the wall where Jude had swept these remnants of his battle with a demon spawn, a Fury who’d broken through Jude’s wards into this courtyard over a month ago. He’d intended to finish cleaning up the mess, but then…

After he was gone, I couldn’t make myself do it, needing every reminder of his presence I could possibly latch on to. Like any person who has lost a loved one so dear, I hadn’t touched a thing. I wanted it frozen in place.

I bent to the shattered remains of Eros and Psyche. The lovers were no longer clinging to one another in a sensual embrace. I picked up the larger piece of Eros, still mostly whole but cracked down the center of his face. His beauty was unmarred, though the fracture sent a terrifying chill up my spine. A premonition of what I might find when I did finally make my way to Jude.

Hold on, my love.

I placed the beautiful broken god back into the pile of rubble and stood, rubbing my hand over my lower abdomen. My body hadn’t yet shown any change, at least on the outside. There was no visible sign of the life I carried within me. But I could feel her essence growing brighter, connected to me along with my VS. I don’t know why, but I knew I carried a daughter. Jude’s daughter. A twinge of love filled my whole being as I patted my belly.

“Don’t worry, little one. I’ll bring him home. I promise.”

Chapter Three

Evanescence blared through Jude’s studio as I performed the kata I’d learned from my father when I was five. Deepening my concentration, I moved with swift, fluid steps as Amy Lee crooned about wounds that wouldn’t heal and pain that was just too real—melodious words that resonated through my blood to my bones. I unsheathed my katana leaning against the wall and worked through a routine of my own creation, including both defensive and offensive moves. For the past three weeks, while I waited for George to locate the archangel Uriel and arrange a meeting, I’d done nothing but train for my upcoming journey. My body was honed to a sharpened weapon.

Funny, I was pregnant, and I was in the best shape of my life. I’d always imagined that when I was expecting, I’d sit on the sofa and eat bonbons all day, watching reruns of
The Office
and getting fat. Of course, I never imagined I’d be pregnant at twenty and that the father of my child would be suffering in the bowels of hell. Sitting my lazy ass on the sofa was no longer an option. Besides, I was only five or six weeks along. No one could tell I was with child. And I planned to keep it that way until I could bring Jude back home.

I twisted and swiveled on my back foot, slicing the blade through the air with a zing at an imaginary enemy. As I spun toward the door, my heart leapt out of my chest.

“Shit! George, don’t
do
that.”

George stood in the open doorway, his shoulder leaning against the frame, arms crossed. “Pardon me, but I tried your cell. You were obviously preoccupied.” Though his charming English accent revealed no anxiety, the taut line of his shoulders and pinched brow told me otherwise.

I sheathed my katana and set it on the table, pressing Stop on the iPhone hooked up to the docking station. Sure enough, two missed calls and a few texts waiting. I’d put incoming calls on silent. After clearing the missed calls, I smiled at the profile pic I’d used for George in my contacts—the roaring dragon, Smaug, from
The Hobbit
movie.

When I’d first learned that he was the one and only legendary St. George the dragon slayer, I thought history had gotten this legend all wrong. First of all, I had to come to grips with the reality that dragons did indeed exist. They were titans, the largest of the spawn created by the most powerful high demons. And second, I had to rearrange my preconception of saints. The debonair man staring at me through aquamarine eyes with well-groomed chestnut hair and who spoke like James Bond was not what I’d imagined a saint would be like. Besides the fact that I’d never planned on meeting one.

“Please tell me you have news, George. You’ve spoken to Uriel?”

“Yes.”

“Can we meet? And soon. I’m losing my freaking mind the longer we wait.”

“Go change, Genevieve. He’s waiting for us.”

“He’s here?”

“Not here.” George shoved off the door frame and headed up the hallway with me trailing behind. “But close by. And he doesn’t like waiting, so hurry.”

“
He
doesn’t like waiting. I’ve been waiting for him for weeks!” I stormed past George in the living room and into Jude’s bedroom, where I’d moved most of my clothes into his closet.

“He is an archangel.”

“I don’t give a damn!” I yelled, slamming the door.

Within three minutes, I’d retied my hair into a tight ponytail, slipped on a pair of jeans and a red ribbed top. Taking thirty more seconds to retrieve my katana, I strapped the harness on my back, shrugged into my leather jacket and met George at the door.

“Let’s go.”

I held out my hand for him to sift me to Uriel’s location. He shook his head. “No. He’s nearby. Let’s walk.”

Refusing to make another snarky remark about the habits of angels, I pushed his arm to move around him, when a blast of Flamma power pulsed through my body. I fell into a memory of George’s past with frightening speed.

I walked down a darkened hallway, adrenaline pumping quickly through my veins. I reminded myself that I was seeing through George’s eyes, sensing everything as he did in this moment. The stone corridor was from an old building, a fortress or castle of some kind. Torches lit sconces along the wall, flickering long shadows across the stone.

A sound came from an open doorway up ahead. I stopped, my heart beating faster. I knew that sound. A soft moan grew louder and longer in a steady rhythm. A woman in the midst of pleasure. Profound pleasure.

I stepped forward, tightening my grip on the heavy sword in my hand. A chill of apprehension sucked the air from my lungs. I dreaded what I would find.

The moans of ecstasy grew louder. A masculine voice whispered. A husky feminine one replied, “Yes.”

A dim glow of light spilled from the open door as I stepped through the archway, freezing at the sight. Heartbreaking pain nearly knocked me to my knees.

Within a palatial bedroom, including a four-poster bed with a luxurious green coverlet, a fire blazing in the hearth, and a wrought-iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling, were two people, straight ahead against the far wall of the bedroom. Wrists shackled by two chains on the wall, the object of my heart’s desire had her arms spread in a V, her legs wrapped around the waist of a nude man, her ankles locked at his back. The dark-haired man thrust his powerful frame, the muscular line of his back rippling as he pumped inside her. Though bound in place, the chains jangling, she tilted her head back against the wall, her mouth open, groaning in pleasure, not in pain. Her expression was not that of a prisoner or a woman being violated against her will. The man lifted her thighs higher and whispered something else close to her ear. Her sweat-drenched, white-blonde hair spilled over her shoulder.

She replied with a groan, saying, “Yes!”

He pounded harder and faster.

My blood burned through my veins. I whipped the blade with a resounding whir in the air. She opened her eyes on a gasp, her glittering green gaze capturing me over her lover’s shoulder—shame and sorrow written there.

I stumbled away from George as I came out of the vision with a violent push, falling backward against the wall.

Kat. The Dominus Daemonum who’d become one of my dearest friends since I’d stepped into this world. She was the one bound against that wall, being pounded into ecstasy. I knew without asking that the man in the vision was Damas, the demon lord who’d captured her. But I’d assumed she’d been kidnapped and held against her will. That didn’t appear to be the case.

George’s eyes widened with concern. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I…I saw another memory. It was—”

“No need to tell me,” he said, grasping my arms to keep me from sliding down the wall.

The last time I’d been in one of his visions, it had left me a sobbing mess. This time, my stomach flipped in revulsion, wanting to empty its contents.

Regaining my balance, I stared at him, my heart breaking all over again. I knew he loved Kat. I had no idea when he’d found her in captivity that he’d found her like that.

“Whatever it is, Genevieve, keep it to yourself. I don’t want to know what horrors you’ve seen in my head.”

Yes. Definitely horrors. He warned me there would be consequences when he shared his power with me so that I could keep Danté from soul-sifting me out of my body at will. I had no idea I’d see some heartbreaking memory from his past every time we bumped into each other. I realized the carefree charm he wore like a coat was more like a mask.

“I’m fine,” I said, shoving off the wall. “Let’s go. Don’t want to keep the archangel waiting.”

I followed him down the stairs and locked the door, trying to rub away that vision burned in my brain. I would never judge Kat, of course. Our sins were our own. But there was so much more to the story I didn’t understand. How could I possibly ask her about such an obviously shameful part of her past with George? One I knew she must regret.

It was around five o’clock as we exited Jude’s home, then stepped through the courtyard and the darkened alcove onto the street. The crisp December air nipped at my cheeks and nose. Heavy clouds pressed down, dimming late afternoon to deep gray. I zipped up my jacket. Hands in pockets, I strolled alongside George, who picked up the pace heading toward Jackson Square.

Holiday wreaths hung on almost every door. One door decoration was shaped in a fleur de lis wrapped in red, green and gold ribbon. Silver lights wrapped the wrought-iron railings. A life-size Santa stood in another arched entry. We set off the motion sensor as we passed, sending Santa into a robotic dance to the song “Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas”.